


The Sound of One hand clapping

by seraphim_grace



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphim_grace/pseuds/seraphim_grace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kimbley has been in the cell a long time</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of One hand clapping

Title: The sound of one hand clapping for Fieryredqueen  
Author: Seraphim Grace  
Feedback: Always appreciated and replied to.  
Rating: MA  
Pairings: Kimbly/Archer  
Warnings: suggestive, nasty

 

Zoloff Kimbly had been in this cell since the end of the Ishbal uprising, with his hands in stocks before him. It didn’t matter much to him, because after all it gave him time to think, to plot, to scheme.

Sometimes the guards said something to him when they brought him his food, one of them had even been stupid enough to undo the stocks, the explosion had been pretty but he hadn’t got far before a night stick caught him at the back of the head. The state alchemists might have been weapons but they were still all too pathetically human.

He had worked out the timing of when they brought the food, although after that first exercise they tried to break it up, it came at different times on different days, but always the same time on the same day. Non alchemists really had no idea what they were capable of, they seemed to think that give a man an array and he became a weapon without any of the intelligence and hard work that went behind it. When he got out they would see his theories, after all they had given him more than enough time to work on them, and now and again a guard would slip him a book that he requested, of course the arrays were all broken, but it was enough for what he wanted.

So he was surprised when the door opened and Archer came in.

Of all the nonalchemists that visited him he despised Archer the most, the man was ruggedly handsome in a human kind of way, boring and bland in the military style without any of the spark of the alchemists, his eyes were dead to the brilliance of alchemy.

One of the guards brought in a chair and dusting it down before laying his handkerchief down as a mat before Archer sat on it. When the guard had closed and locked the door behind him Archer spoke. “They tell me you do a lot of thinking down here.” He said and his voice was calm, “I’m wondering if you perhaps have information for me.”

Kimbly spat.

Archer ignored him, he was out of reach anyway. “The world is going to hell out there, and I was wondering if you would make yourself useful to the military.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Kimbly spat the words out.

Archer just smiled. Then stood up, he took a chain from a hook on the wall and attached it to the stocks in front of him, pushing his face along Kimbly’s like he was scenting an animal, “you’ve kept yourself fit,” Archer said with a smile, “and with those stocks I imagine that you don’t get to relieve frustrations,” he leant in and dragged his tongue the length of Kimbly’s face, “tell me, alchemist, do you know the sound of one hand clapping?”


End file.
